


Hexed

by UnholyHelbig



Series: Pitch Perfect Horror Week [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: Three girls are called to a mysterious location, all with the same wax-sealed letter.(This is my day three entry for Pitch Perfect Horror week)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is more of an exposition than an actual story. I have loved this idea forever and have even planned out a book. BUT Pitch Perfect horror week has given me a chance to test out their personalities as witches. so let me know what you think!

**The cat walked** with a strong stiffness. It may have been attributed to its age, black fur greying at the edges of pointed ears and clawed feet. The pads left little marks in the pavement that water hadn’t reached, prints that looked like beans as the night wind prickled goosebumps along Chloe’s arms. Its eyes glowering in a golden yellow.

It hissed at her, whiskers twitching under the street lamp as it came to a lounging stop on top of the metal trash can. It was dented like someone had kicked it. Maybe a kid that had too much time on their hands. Either way, it made for a perfect perch. A mystical looking creature flicking its speckled tail back and forth.

She hated cats. It was an odd thing for her to think. All the myths plastered her with the same type of animal by her side; a feline that was under an evil hex. One that curled around her feet and rubbed close to her legs. Cat’s hated Chloe too.

“Bite me,” She mumbled, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she tried to distribute the weight evenly. It wasn’t working well. Her history books were weighing down her whole entire person. She had walked all the way across town from the high school, her nose raw and runny. The air smelled of spice from the bakery down the street; pumping out artificially flavored pumpkin treats. Her stomach nearly growled.

“If you insist.” The voice startled her, words slithering from the darkness of the alleyway.

Beca dropped her hand on top of the cat’s head with little to no consequence. The animal pulled its dastardly gaze away from Chloe as it pushed Itself closer to the brunette’s touch. She had stepped into the light, the color shading every inch of her already sharp features. Her midnight eyes matched the slowly darkening sky.

Chloe had noticed the way her teeth pointed into nearly canine tips at the edge. How she looked so much like the creature that was under her fingers. She was absently scratching under the animal’s chin, it’s tail swaying happily as it elicited a low purr. Chloe almost envied her.

The girl was dark. She didn’t speak more than necessary, her camera always hung low around her neck and her hair fell into an overly dressed stare. She was lacking the camera now, a tight leather jacket over a plain grey t-shirt.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe shifted herself again. She cast her own attention up to the sign that creaked back and forth as the October wind picked up speed. It read  _Hexes_ in bold gothic letters on a wooden slate. It had been branded into the surface, two iron chains attaching it to a metal rod. It rested at the right end of a row of businesses, a small space creating an alley between the shop and the dentist office.

“Oh, I have a late-night appointment.” Beca flashed a devilish smile. “Doctor Geller is fantastic when it comes to working with my schedule.”

“Is it possible for you to be anything other than sarcastic?” Her heels made a loud and electric sound against the pavement. Aubrey Posen never the late one unless something was really pulling at her mind. She had parked a few blocks away, her hands shoved into the pockets of her fleece pea-coat. Her breath was thick in the air. Beca rolled her eyes in response. She scooped the cat up, placing it on the ground next to her boots. All three women watched it scamper away.

“I assume the only reason all  _three_ of us are here has something to do with this letter?” Aubrey held up a perfectly cut cream envelope. It still had the seal stamped into it with a waxy red. She hadn’t bothered to do anything but run a blade across the top. Chloe produced her own letter, cheeks reddening. She had ripped into hers a little bit savagely, the wax nearly everywhere. They both glanced at Beca.

She shrugged her shoulders and pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, not bothering to straighten it much under the glow of the night. Still, they could make up the clear coordinates and military time left for all three of them to follow.

“Well,” Chloe lifted her eyebrows towards the blonde “If we’re being led to our deaths at least me and you have a chance of escaping.”

“Rude.” Beca scrunched up her nose as she took the lead in front of the other two girls. They didn’t’ question her. Neither reckless enough to walk into a magic shop. Not one that had a large window with blocky gold lettering curved out on frosty glass. The cat hissed again. Not at Chloe, but at the motion her new friend made. Beca barely noticed.

The room smelled like herbs; a mix between cinnamon and mint. It clouded Chloe’s lungs, making her want to cough into her jacket sleeve. None of them could see much. Every inch of the room seemed to be lined with dark mahogany shelves that had old books, yellowed at the seam. Beca fought her urge to run her fingers along the spines. She had a feeling Aubrey would smack her hand away if she tired.

A few tables decorated the negative space. Different colored bottles were slapped with written labels. Newts eye and troll spit. Stuff that Chloe thought were pitted grapes and thickened water. A whole row of clear mason jars rested behind a large desk on a platform. A computer reflected Its screen saver onto the lowest row of glass.

“What the hell?” Aubrey scratched the back of her neck, trying to size up her situation. She couldn’t.

A girl was leaned over the counter, her fingers scanning evenly against the paces as she chewed on the straw for a cup of tea that came from the only coffee shop in town. Its obnoxious logo was sprawled against the front. The drink was nearly empty, brunette hair falling into kind chocolate eyes. A thickly rimmed pair of glasses looked almost cliché on the girl. But she wore them with little consequence. Beca cleared her throat.

She jolted up, letting out a small yelp as she nearly choked on whatever liquid was in her throat. The page on her book was already dog-eared, but it fell shut clumsily. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, sizing up the car that was either planning on adding pressure to the break, or the gas.

Her nametag read  _Emily._ It was in the same font that was littered on the labels around the store. Sloppy, yet elegant and heavy-handed. “Oh! I-“She shuffled a little from foot to foot, turning her watch around her wrist “It’s already nine.”

It was nine, the exact time that was written on the paper. Both Beca and Chloe had to convert the numbers by typing them into a search engine. Aubrey already knew. The older girl seeming to find her confidence as she took a step forward, resting her fingers on the metal edge of the desk. Emily sized her up.

“Did you type these letters?” She asked.

Chloe was walking a little slower, staring up and down at the shelves stacked with knowledge. Beca ran her finger against an edge of wood, taking away a coating of dust. She rubbed her forefinger and thumb together, feeling the texture. She peered up at the delayed response.

“Well, not me personally.” Emily smiled awkwardly, pushing her glasses to the center of her nose. Aubrey dropped her shoulders a bit at the response “But technically, yes. I’m so glad you all came!”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Chloe mumbled softly, standing next to Aubrey now. Beca still disinterested in the conversation as a whole.

“Well, I suppose not” Emily giggled. It was a cute and airy sound. Beca letting out a breath as an amused smile played at her lips. This girl was too innocent to snipe at. Even as she shoved her hands in her pocket and slacked her stance. “Thank you for having so much blind trust.”

“Mm,” Chloe pursed her lips together. She glanced at the two women on either side of her “I told you we were going to get murdered.”

Emily lifted her chin slightly, not exactly disproving the theory that was left sitting in the air. Instead, she began flitting around the room. She was grabbing things. Things that were too fast to read, and too blurred to make sense of. Aubrey had placed her hand flat on the glass of the desk. She shrugged her shoulders at the two girls that were at her right.

“You’re all from here?” She asked, somewhere across the room.

“Small talk, fantastic,” Beca mumbled under her breath.

Emily came back into view. She was holding two books that weighted her down. She let them fall with enough force to crack the glass desk. It didn’t’; dust pooling in the air as she waved her hand wildly in front of her face. Trying to soothe itchy lungs. “Your families are founding families.” She explained, flipping wildly through pages. “The Posen’s, Beale’s, and Mitchell’s.”

Their families had always lived in town; Aubrey Posen came from riches, large houses with iron fences and fancy keypads that required constantly oscillating tones. Lined lawns and large pools that made summers an oasis of drinking and skinny dipping.

Chloe Beale forged from a middle-class home, a four-bedroom house that rested just in front of the looming mansions. Her father a college football coach, the second daughter of a household of three. The youngest. She was a cheerleader. Turning in her pom-poms without much explanation. Beca had written an article about it.

Beca Mitchell lived in an apartment on the wrong side of the city. The shudders were cracked, and the sound of police sirens would lull her into a fit of sleep. Her mother wasn’t around much, father gone since she was three. A founding family that had gone into a pit of despair after bad investments and a splayed murder in the 70’s. Wrongly accused if you asked any of the Mitchell’s.

They glanced sparingly at one another.   
“Oh! Me too, I’m a Junk.”

“that is extremely unfortunate.” Beca swallowed thickly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Emily seemed to not hear the comment if she had, she didn’t’ comment. Instead, she ran her finger down the raised text of the book, mumbling under her breath as she struggled to find what she was looking for. “Ah! Okay, here is. You’re witches.”

Chloe choked, maybe on the dust that still floated through the air. She didn’t bother swallowing it back or covering her mouth. Aubrey was frozen in her place, curling her fingers into the glass- almost like it was ripped the fabric. “I’m sorry?”

“Right, well, this town was built on sacred ground, blah blah blah” Emily waved it off, mumbling through most of the text “Ancient burials, supernatural wars. Oh! The house fire of 92.”

“I’m sorry, can you slow down?” Beca asked, breath picking up to the speed Emily was talking. “ _Witches?”_

“Well, not true witches.” Emily stopped, her finger still halfway through a paragraph as she looked up at the paling girls “You’re elementals.”

“That really doesn’t clear things up,” Aubrey mumbled, heat raising against her cheeks.

Emily took a steadying breath. She rubbed her palms against the fabric of her jeans. Her hair was falling into her stare. She was suddenly conscious of her audience. Like her whole entire life was spent simplifying history for people who had no need for useless facts. The girls remained, blinking dumbly.

“Astoria was founded by a group of traveling families in the 1800’s, but they weren’t the first people to set foot on this land. A pack of druids had settled fifty years before. They had created four points in the shape of a square, maybe a rectangle” She scanned her mind, trying to stay on track. “They created a plot of fertile land between these mystical stones- focal points to harvest magic.

“They planted the stones, cast a spell, and then years later our families settled. Over the years the effects of the magic needed guards. Needed people to make sure no one built over or came near the points.”

Beca nodded like she was understanding. She wasn’t, not entirely. But Aubrey and Chloe seemed like they were, the tallest of the three staring directly at the bottles that lined the walls. Chloe looking deeply into the glass case that held metal edged swords locked behind a glass.

“The druids found families that they trusted. The noblest. The fiercest. The kindest. The bravest.” She drew in a shaky breath “They restored them, gave them enough magic to protect the Astoria. And all three of you are a part of that legacy. Descendants from something big.”

There was a strong silence between the room. Chloe’s breathing the loudest, like she was coming down with a cold, or was about to draw tears. She hadn’t looked up. None of them speaking a word for an agonizing silence. “Each of you have abilities specific to the stone that you protect.”  

Chloe’s mouth had never felt drier. She wondered if that troll spit on the wall was really from a mystical creature. If it was tap water, she’d sip it. If it had any type of alcohol proof, she would chug it. This was insane- and by the looks on Beca and Aubrey’s faces, they agreed. “Right, well, Emily? I think I’ve heard enough for one night.”

“I’m with strawberry shortcake.” Beca choked out, she was toying with a dog tag that hung from her neck, running her fingers easily over the inscription that was rusted around curved edges. “This is a little much.”

Aubrey looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t’. Her fingers were clenched against her stomach, the other hand supporting her against the glass desk. Emily seemed to nod in understanding. “Sorry guys, I guess I’m more used to this stuff than you are.”

The blonde shook her head, looking a sickly shade of green as she blinked a few times and rushed out the front door. A little bell chimed that none of them noticed before. The same layer of dust that coated every inch of the store was filed into the air in a matter of moments. Chloe gave an apologetic smile and followed after the near stranger, heaving in the parking lot where that feline had rested mere minutes ago. Beca and Emily left in a stark silence, a clock ticking loudly.

“That didn’t go well.” The taller brunette nested her fingers in her hair, dragging them across her scalp in an awkward habit.

“Can I, uh” Beca awkwardly moved her fingers towards the book “I mean, do you have some sort of a check out system here?”

“Just take it,” Emily sighed heavily, letting her head fall onto the glass desk. She looked so innocent among the stacks of books. Her fingers played at the edge of the plastic cup.

Beca mumbled something along the lines of a cautious ‘thanks’ before collecting the book and shoving it under the hem of her jacket like she hadn’t got any permission at all. The cold air was brutal compared to the cozy shop, a rancid smell of bile tickling at her throat as she stared over at Chloe running her hand evenly over Aubrey’s back, holding her blonde hair from her face.

The smallest of the three shook her head softly before taking a shortcut through the second alley.   


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exposition, how interesting?? 
> 
> I did decide to give this prompt a shot, like... a longer shot. So let me know what you think!

**The heater smelled** of plastic. Deep, and burnt plastic that coated her lungs the longer she stayed in the truck. The old ford was nothing to call home about, it’s crimson paint chipping away to a rusted material. She barely kept the air on, resorting to windows as if not to overheat anything. But it had gotten colder out, snow barely falling but coated abrasively in the atmosphere. Her windows were fogged.

Beca ran her fingers over the edge of the book. It was still cold from the night before; she had left it in the truck. Her stomach had churned to the point of pulling a Posen, and she refused to damage a piece of literature this old with whatever she consumed for dinner.

It was old, resting in her lap as the heat continued to lick at her cheeks. She wasn’t sure where to start, tracing the raised symbol on the front cover. A combination of triangles and lines cracked with leather. Beca couldn’t remember the exact page that Emily had flipped to, or what she was looking for- but holding it felt right. Even if it was in the middle of the school parking lot half an hour before doors even opened.

Through the haze on her windshield, she could see the social classes forming, even in the cold; the jocks still wore their letterman jackets over layers of sweaters and gloves. Tony Halliday was tossing a frost covered football around with Andy Bowman, some still leaning on their cars as they watched the rhythmic game of catch.

A few stoners were on the benches out front, smoking cigarettes and adding to the mist that already formed in icy air. Their noses were raw, and they sat in an unbridled silence that Beca could feel from her own seat. Lindsey Caldwell took a long drag before stomping out the ashes with the tip of her worn vintage boot.

A sharp knock pulled at the door, smudging away at the mist on the glass. Beca curled her fingers, heart jumping to her throat as she let out a mix between a grunt and a hiss. Her head snapped towards the noise, eyebrows knitting. She let out a breath of relief.

Stacie Conrad wore a toothy grin on her face. She was almost as tall as Beca’s roof, squatting slightly as she presented two thermoses of steaming beverage. The prospect of coffee made Beca’s mouth water. She pushed the book to the floor, pulling a t-shirt to cover it. Stacie moved back, letting her open the door.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Stacie thrust a mug into her hand, it instantly warmed.

“thanks,” She grumbled, not wasting time swallowing the molten liquid in a few even gulps. No sugar or cream, the bitter taste warming her from the core, waking her up. A thin layer of dry snow melted with her footprints as she sniffed.

“What brings you here so early?” Stacie asked.

“Oh, you know, thought I could get a few yearbook pictures of the local youth in their natural habitat.”

Stacie barked out a laugh. She looked cold, despite the jacket that hugged her shoulders. Her bag hung off one arm as she took a sip from her own cup. The two of them took their time getting to the double doors. “No really, you kind of darted last night. Then you’re here early this morning?”

Beca let out an easy breath as she caught the horizon. It was a dark and cloudy day, her camera hanging with a certain weight against her neck. She instinctively had one hand on it, making sure it wasn’t jostled too much.

“Hey,” Stacie stopped, toying her fingers under Beca’s elbow. “You’d tell me if things got bad again, right?”

“Of course, you know that, Stace.” She swallowed back the chill of the air. “I promise you. I just got tired last night. Had a lot of thinking to do this morning. Everything is fine.”

Everything wasn’t fine. Beca wasn’t sure what it was, but fine wasn’t it. Her mind was still racing from the ramblings of a freshmen that owned a magic shop. Enough so for her to pull a book from her clutches and actually _read_ more into her past. Her supposed past. Everything was swimming, and right now, all she could focus on was moving her feet and not slipping on ice.

Lindsay Caldwell coughed like a deflated balloon, her dark eyes following Beca as her lungs popped. She blew out a cloud of smoke, and Beca crinkled her nose in response, running the pads of her thumb over the edge of her camera.

“Alex Ramirez hit on me last night. You know after my wingman left.”

“So, me leaving technically got you laid?”

Beca wore a smile on her face as she pulled open the door to the school, a blast of heat worming into her clothes as they walked. There was snow on the black mats in the lobby; large pictures of the high schools marching band and last year’s football champions littered the walls. _Home of the Astoria Raven’s._

The lockers were such a bright blue they were almost violet, black feathers from the cheap mascot costume littered the hallway, no one truly knowing who actually wore the mask. Even though Beca had taken multiple pictures of them, that remained the biggest mystery in her life until last night.

“With Ramirez, really?”

“He can get you a discount at Goldberg’s.” Beca lifted her chin. “Take one for the team, Stace.”

Her face softened as they reached their lockers. The school seemed to have a vendetta when it came to assignments; they would always give Beca that locker above Stacie and they would switch before the first week’s end. It had been like that since the first day of sixth grade. Beca would stand on her toes trying to plug in her combination while Stacie squatted under her, trying not to be hit with textbooks.

“Actually, he was pretty nice.” She shrugged her shoulders, Beca leaning evenly towards the metal as she watched Stacie fish for her chemistry book. “We talked until the place closed and he walked me to the car. Didn’t try anything either.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Beca admitted, certainly better than most of the people Stacie dated, or attempted to date. “It’s just the dungeon and dragon’s thing it-“

“Is a game of tactical skill and fantasy unknown, Beca.” She closed her locker, making an odd hand motion through the air. “Open your mind up to a little magic.”

There was that word again. _Magic. Witches. Druids._ They were all the same to her. All myth with no truth. That’s exactly what she thought all this was- lore. That book that was shoved into the passenger seat of her car was nothing more than a collection of Grimm’s fairytales.

“Trust me, I have. And the only magic I want to see is getting to class on time.”

“Whoa, what?” She blinked rapidly “You don’t want to cut first period and harbor that brooding façade of yours in the darkroom?”

Yes. Of course, she wanted to pull herself into her sacred space. It used to be a janitor’s closet until she convinced the school board to let her turn it into a dark room for the yearbook committee. The pictures were better when they weren’t digital. There was nothing more than a red light and a few buckets filled with developer. But she still cherished it more than anything. Her and Stacie would eat lunch there and spend late nights within its walls.

 “No, I want to get to class.” She restated, walking past her friend who stared with wide eyes.

“Who are you and what have you done with Beca Mitchell?”

Beca scoffed, taking another long gulp of coffee. Nothing could wake her up at this point. She felt drowsy, and actually willing enough to sit through a morning class discussing cells in a lab that smelled oddly like antiseptic. She raised her camera with her free hand, pressing the power button as she stared down at the slowly lit screen. She had a well enough battery, enough to get her through the first half of the day without the principle riding her ass for more or less photo’s. The school newspaper even worse. That, she blamed on Stacie.

She choked the second her body collided with another- hot and overwhelming. It was tobacco and vanilla, maybe even strawberry. Either way, it was warm. Comfort despite the fact that her head rammed into another. An ache running close to her temple and down her jaw.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

Hands were gripping her upper arm, Beca blinking evenly as she tried to focus her attention. Chloe Beale. She looked effortlessly perky, her smile radiant in the dark hallway. Flecks of snow littered her hair and melted into her clothes. “Yeah, I… Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” She smiled, running her hand down Beca’s arm as she took a small step back. Glancing towards Stacie as she tucked her textbook flush against her chest. “How are you holding up?”

It was a genuine question. “I’m okay. Is Aubrey-“

“She’ll be fine.” She threw another glance at Stacie “We should talk about last night.”

Beca nodded and swallowed loudly. She knew they needed to talk about it, it wasn’t something that could be ignored. “Later? We kind of have to get to class.”

“I know” Chloe let out an infectious giggle, rocking back and forth on her feet as a slight hint of a smile pulled at Beca’s lips. “We have first period together.”

“She’s not very observational.” Stacie slung an arm over her shoulder, squeezing it as Beca gave off a buzzing glare. “Of course, she knew you have Chem first period. Right Bec’s?”

She got a grunt in response as Chloe gave a timid wave and walked towards the classroom. Beca shoved her friend off, straightening the wrinkles in her shirt as she rolled her shoulders back.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” She flicked her eyes back down to her camera. “Forget it ever happened.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these chapters are going to shift POV, I've decided. That way you'll get a chance to see all the girls!

**Aubrey curled her** fingers into the front of her shirt, the fabric scratching into her clammy palm. It had left a misshapen stain on the already maroon color. Her throat was raw and her stomach churning. She hadn’t stopped throwing up since last night- since that little sprite of a girl pooled that much information into one stark night.

Her blinds were drawn, the little edge of light that snuck through the curtains burned her eyes, leaving an afterlight as she blinked away the blurry shapes that appeared on her ceiling. This was too much; something impossible that shattered her whole analytical world. Her head was spinning, and her body was aching.

“Sweetie?” the knock at the door was a sledgehammer. She grumbled in response, pulling her sweat-stained blanket over her head. She didn’t’ know what time it was, but that hardly seemed to matter when she barely moved the whole day. She had slept through her first two classes, which was very unlike her, before refusing to choke down a mix of antibiotic and vinegar that her mother claimed would settle her stomach. “Are you awake?”

She blinked in response, the door creaking open anyway. Beverly Posen was a lean woman, someone who said her youthful looks attributed to a good lotion, but she woke up early three days a week to attend a Zumba class. She had matching suit and pants combo’s, wearing an obnoxious white one now.

Beverly held a tray filled with a combination of sickly smelling tea and a sandwich that she knew deep down Aubrey wouldn’t touch. It was the sentiment. “There’s a friend downstairs for you.” She leaned against the frame. “Brought over some history homework. I can send her away if you’d like.”

Aubrey propped herself up, trying to swallow back nausea that plagued her. “No, I… she can come up.”

Aubrey didn’t’ take a history class. She hadn’t since last semester, but something compelled her to let this stranger upstairs. Even as she tucked her legs under on the bed, leaning her sweat covered back against her cool wooden bedframe. It almost made her hiss, her hair damp. Her mother nodded before cracking the door and leaving the room.

Emily didn’t’ look as slight as she had in the magic shop. She actually looked almost normal; Aubrey cursed herself for thinking that she wouldn’t. She wore a spotted button-down tucked into jeans. She didn’t have her reading glasses on, eyes a kind chocolate brown that melded into her surroundings. She knocked despite Aubrey being able to see her.

A small and charming smile played at her lips, her leather messenger bag hanging off her shoulder. “Hey,” She mumbled softly, running her fingers down the door as she closed it behind her. “I couldn’t find you in school today, thought I’d stop by to check on you.”

Blush clouded Aubrey’s cheeks. She hoped Emily wouldn’t notice. “Thank you, that’s uh, that’s sweet.”

“I kind of dropped a huge bomb on you last night.” She said tenderly, sitting down at the bottom of Aubrey’s bed, the corner dipping as she rested her bag on her lap. Aubrey picked at an embroidered flower on a pillow that her grandmother had fastened. “I think you’re the only one really reacting to this.”

“Beca run the other direction when she saw you, huh?”

“Both of them did, actually.” Her laugh was quiet “I didn’t think she could move that fast, in all honesty.”

Aubrey smiled, blowing a bit of air from her nose as she dropped her hands in her lap, giving up on pulling at the fabric on the pillow. She didn’t want it to come undone. Her grandmother wasn’t around the patch it anymore, and her mother had never sewn a day in her life.

“Anyway,” Emily pulled awkwardly at her bag, diving her hands into its depths. It rattled a bit too much for Aubrey’s comfort. “I brought something for you.”

“Please tell me it’s not history homework?”

Emily let out a snort of a laugh, it was cute, really. Her focus was still on the bag as she pulled out a little bottle that had a cloudy finish. There was a tag around its neck. The liquid looked thick and was colored like sea foam. “No, it’s actually a mixture,”

“A what now?” Aubrey asked, squeezing herself closer to the headboard. She was apprehensive. It looked like one of those dusty bottles that littered the shelves of Hexed. This one shined cleaner, Emily tucking her legs under her as she set her bag to the side.

“I grew up with this stuff, you know? My parents were never shy about my past, and what I meant to Astoria. In fact, I think they leaned a little too much into it. Some parents teach their kids how to bake a chocolate cake, but my mother taught me how to mix potions.”

Witches, right. That was something that Aubrey would much rather forget. Emily’s little bottle seemed harmless enough, even more so when she was wiggling nervously like she was. She ghosted her fingers over the bridge of her nose like she wanted to push her glasses up.

“It’s nothing scary, I promise. Dried chamomile, a bit of lavender. Passionflower.” She shook it around “Mainly green fluorite. Either way, it helps dull anxiety.”

“How do you know it’s anxiety?”

“I don’t, really.” Emily timidly looked down at her own hands. Blood rushed to her cheeks and clouded the tip of her nose. “You have sweaty hands, and they’re shaking a lot. You got sick last night, and it looks like the light is bothering you. Besides, if I was told I had powers, I would get anxious too.”

She shifted on the bed, moving close to Aubrey as she set it on the nightstand. The blonde followed her movements, tempted to lean into the warmth, but she never did. Emily stood up, shoving pulling her bag over her shoulder.

“If you want, drink half before you sleep tonight, and the other half in the morning.” Her honey eyes flashed towards the tray of food that Beverly Posen set on her nightstand. The sandwich was still cold, and condensation dripped from a glass of juice. “Don’t take it on an empty stomach, Bree.”

Aubrey nodded, pulling her knees to her chest as she hugged them close, not sure what to say. Emily gave a small wave before walking from the creaked door. She closed it all the way before Aubrey listened to footsteps leading away. She stared at the green bottle, letting out a small breath before reaching for half the sandwich. Maybe she should eat.   


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, yeah? I still like this story a lot, I've just been beyond busy. Still can't believe I have a month left until I'm living in Wyoming and oh my god. Panic.

**The first thing** Emily registered was the smell of smoke. Its earthy tones reminded her of a birthday party. Not the kind that was thrown between the walls of a pizzeria with cheap animatronics and dripping grease. Emily hated those parties, and she hated the mascot in the unsealed costume even more. It’s impish and permanent grin yellowed with age.

She thought about the quieter birthdays as she waved the plume of smoke from the waxy candle. The type that consisted of a little yellow house with a white picket fence. A fold-out plastic table had weighted objects holding down a plastic sheet. There was a cake, and on that icing coated dessert there were candles. Candles that smelled exactly like this when they blew out.

Emily carefully lilted it to the side, a mess of sticky wax pouring onto aged parchment in a neat crimson circle. She was cautious not to burn herself, even more so as she grasped the metal seal and pressed it into the slowly hardening liquid.

The scent of dust was quick to fill her lungs the second the door sprung open. There was a little chime of a bell. She hissed under her breath the second the scorching wax lapped at her palm, golden eyes flicking to the customer that had broken her concentration.

Chloe Beale.

Her jacket was tight against her mid-section, and her eyes seemed to dull in comparison to the dark lights that hung around the store. This time, she didn’t’ take a moment to look at the books that lined the shelves. Chloe only had eyes for the clerk that had straightened up at this point, pushing her wire-framed glasses to her nose as she shoved the paper away.

“Chloe,” She breathed “What are you-“

“I think we need to talk.”

“Okay,”

Her voice was timid. Emily had taken Beca, or even Aubrey, as the one to barge in here. But Emily was suddenly grateful that there was a glass plated desk between her and the ex-cheerleader of Astoria High. She didn’t’ wear the purple and black uniform but her eyes and demeanor were still dark like she had a bone to pick.

“I should be upset with you, you know?” She spoke slowly, voice evening out like thin broth. “And this stupid little town, and it’s druids and stones. But I’m not.”

Emily nodded slowly as she understood, but she didn’t’. Chloe’s stare looked frantic like she was trying to make sense of something. Emily lowered her shoulders a bit, thankful that she wasn’t about to become a pawn in target practice.

“Everything is supposed to be _normal.”_ Chloe defended, her voice cracking at the desolate word. “I was homecoming queen with Tom Harris. The head cheerleader until about a month ago. I was set for Stanford and everything.”

“Then why’d you quit?”

Chloe’s crystalline eyes snapped up to the young witch. “What?”

“If you had everything figured out, why did you quit?”

She drummed her fingers on the glass case. She was suddenly more interested in the dagger that rested in Styrofoam and satin. Her cheeks had just paled from the warmth of the magic shop, the cold still lingering against her fingertips. “That’s exactly why. Maybe I don’t want my whole life mapped out, you know? At least, I didn’t think I wanted that. But now I kind of need the normalcy.”

“I think normalcy is overrated.” She said.

The older woman let out a deep sigh and frowned at the items in front of her. The wax on the yellow sealed letter had hardened into the smoky layer. She had evidently caught the same whiff of burnt wick that Emily had cringed away from in the first place. There was a golden tipped blade to the woman’s right, and a feathered quill. It all looked archaic- the writing curved and dried in an inky brown.

“This is like the letter you sent all of us.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Emily nodded, palming it before opening the desk and shoving all the materials into it, letting the envelope stay face up to dry. “Right, now all I have to do is call my owl and he can send it right out.”

“Your _what?_ ”

“I’m kidding, Chloe.” The taller of the two broke an earth-shattering smile “I use the United States postal service like the rest of us. Though I do have to admit, texting would be a lot easier than burning a wax seal.”

She smiled then, and it was weary, but not at all forced. Chloe took a moment to stare around the store. To stare down at the different things in the case and the way Emily seemed at home with everything around her. How her fingerprints barely made a mark against smudged glass. She wasn’t the nervous type, but her palms began to sweat.

“He cheated on me,” Chloe said, staring down at the golden rimmed case. Her voice was heavy, and Emily could tell she hadn’t spoken about this yet, much less talked it into existence. She stayed quiet. “Walked in on him and Rose Roberts banging it out on the coach’s desk. And of course, he backtracked. Said that she meant nothing to him, but it was apparent that I didn’t’ either. You know?”

Chloe sniffed and finally looked up at Emily. Their eyes met and they were solace.

“He’s the football captain, and he could have anyone, so I was always astounded that he would choose me. That I was worth fighting for.” Her voice was tight. “But I wasn’t, and I know that now. Up until a month ago, I was just another clone with a bow and too much glitter in her makeup.”

She breathed in and moved the base of her arm across her nose. It was far from graceful, and Emily had half the mind to reach for a tissue, but Chloe had resorted to using the sleeve of her shirt instead. Her hands felt wet, a thick brine of sweat originating from the heat of the shop. Emily didn’t’ seem to be bothered by it.  

“God, my mom is pissed.” Chloe let out a watery laugh. “Imagine how she’d feel if she ever found out I was a witch.”

“Elemental,” Emily said.

“Yeah… that.”

Neither of them heard the bell to the door, the way it jingled and let in a cold draft of wind. They both ignored the scent of pastry that wafted from the coffee house down the block. “Those uniforms suck, anyway.”

Chloe drew in a sharp breath as she turned slightly against the desk. Emily shot her eyes up, making quick contact with Beca. The girl looked like she had caught her own death in the frigid nature of the night. Her leather jacket made her blend into the darkness. She looked out of place in the warmth of the shop.

“I uh-“She fidgeted with the large text in her hands “I brought your book back.”

Her steps echoed against the floor as she awkwardly set the heaping literature down. Emily was instantly hit with that same dusty smell that enveloped her. No matter how much she thought she was used to it, she never was- never could be. Still, she was somewhat shocked that she got it back in the first place.

“I didn’t’ mean to eavesdrop.” She finally sounded out. Beca had the scent of sage and winter. Chloe swallowed thickly and lifted her chin at the girl. “But you’re better off without him.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Neither does she,” Beca lifted her chin towards the girl behind the counter. “Sometimes it’s better not to know someone all that well. Besides, way I figure it, we’re in this, _whatever this is,_ together.”

Emily was inclined to agree. She had been up against the dark for years now, and even by the light of a wax candle bathed in red, she knew that she had something here. Something in a letter that was penned in doves’ blood. She stared at the two- the way Chloe’s body slowly became less rigid.

Beca smiling her cat-like grin.    


	5. Chapter 5

**Chloe’s family had** a library. Well, not so much a library as a study with a lot of books in it. Books that had worn spines and yellowed pages at the mercy of time. She never thought much of it- it was her fathers’ space. He had a case of brandy and a set of fancy gold-rimmed glasses that she never dreamed of touching.

Pictures of the family were scattered among the baby blue and black colors of his prized college football team. He had torn a ligament before getting picked up by the Pittsburg Steelers. When you got him drunk enough, or for a matter of fact, one beer, he would rant about it. About how they would have procured twice as many titles by now if God hadn’t wronged him out of a professional career.

Chloe had a tendency to blur out the conversation now. She would nod and made the appropriate sounds, but she would never say a word because it would send him off on another tangent. Still, Roderick Beale did well for himself and his family. Well enough for them to have a library… of sorts.

She pushed the marinated chicken around her plate with the prongs of her fork, letting the broth cloud the white of the plate with swirls of color akin to an oil spill on the scorched pavement. She had sculpted the mash potatoes in a way that made it look like she ate more than she really had. The girl didn’t have much of an appetite but still didn’t wish to make her mother second guess her choice at spending half a day roasting a bird.

Jake helped himself to another heaping of corn while Rachel slyly checked her phone under the fabric tablecloth. The blue tint shaded her sharp features as she finally clicked the button on the side and glanced up at her mother- who was pointedly speaking to her.

“Did you finish your dissertation, dear?”

Rachel took to shoving half an unbuttered roll into her mouth and let out a mumbled slew of words to avoid the answer but gave a thumbs up regardless. Roderick cut into his chicken the juices spewed even further across the plate. Rachel was in law school. The question of her GPA was different- but she was attending and that seemed to be enough to appease the Beales. At least for now.

“How was school today, Chloe?”

She stopped painting a picture with her food and glanced up. The whole table had eyes on her. Even her father leaned back in his chair, bite halfway to his mouth. His eyes were a steely grey. The unkind type of slate.

“School was good, I got an A on the Chemistry midterm-“her family wanted more. Needed more to resume their disconnected dinner. “Stayed after and helped Melody work out some kinks in the half-time show. Nothing too glamorous.”

Chloe shoved a bite of potatoes into her mouth and her stomach instantly curled into itself, but she struggled through swallowing it regardless. “Hey, Dad. I have a question.”

He lifted his eyebrows. A stoic man with a hell of a mean mug. If she ran into him in a supermarket, she would walk the other way to avoid him. But instead he was next to her- at the head of the table with a baby blue polo hugging his sides tightly. A stain of gravy was dripped against the collar, wicked into the fabric. He gave up on his bite and lowered it to the edge of the plate.

“What’s wrong?” His voice gruff.

“Nothing’s wrong I’m just…” Chloe scrambled easily, Rachel finally swallowing her roll. “I’ve been doing this history project with a few people from school. It’s about Astoria and everything that happened here before our families settled.”

Roderick ran his fingers over the fabric of the table and glanced to his wife. She nodded evenly. Somewhat of an approval. It was odd, seeing a man who could single-handedly strike fear into a whole college football team needed some kind of support from his wife. Chloe wasn’t sure if she found it endearing or not. Right now, her palms just sweat.  

“We’ve been through this, Chloe. Our family came in on a ship from the Netherlands and settled here, just like every history book says.”

“yeah, but we found a couple of sources that say there’s more to it than that.” She shifted, straightening up. “They talk about the people settling here finding stones, or something like that. Something they had to protect-“

“Where did you hear _that_?” Roderick said. His eyes had somehow hardened like cement. Chloe lost even more of her appetite.

“That’s some old legend people say during Halloween to get people to stay away from the clearing off Ravenswood,” Jake spoke up, charming smile in tow. “There’s no stock to those rumors.”

His words seemed to break the tension in the air, though her father still had a death grip on the fork that he was holding. “Stay away from that legend, Chloe. Like your brother said. It’s an old tale and I don’t want you poking around it, even if it is for a project. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Chloe’s mouth felt dry. She picked up her glass and gulped down a few even sips of water before excusing herself from her mother’s meal and trailing up the stairs towards her room before anything could be said to stop her. She pressed her back against eh cool edge of the door and let out a breath.

She had left the magic shop rather quickly after Beca showed up. Making some excuse to get home before her parents did. She wouldn’t mind sticking around for some coffee- to talk things through with the girl that resided there and the one with the demon-like smile. But she couldn’t- couldn’t face something she didn’t entirely understand.

Chloe launched herself towards her desk and sifted through the papers. There was the English assignment she was sure to be behind on, and the crinkled wax-sealed letter from two nights ago that she hadn’t touched since then. On the back, there was a written number. Aubrey’s.

It rang once. Then twice. Then a third time before the blonde had the decency to answer an unknown number. Chloe didn’t blame her, but it didn’t stop her. “This is Aubrey, right?”

“Depends. Who’s this?”

“Chloe Beale, you know head Cheer-“She stopped herself. That wasn’t her anymore. “We met when you were throwing up in the parking lot.”   

There was a long pause and Chloe had half the heart to believe she hung up. “I know who you are. What do you want?”

“I think we should all meet. Talk things out. Maybe at the coffee shop or the park or really anywhere.”

“You don’t think all of this is actually real?” Aubrey shifted on the other end of the phone line. “Beca, I figured, doesn’t have a fine distinction between fantasy and reality, but you? Up until a month ago, I was sure you had a firm head on your shoulders.”

“I do.” Chloe grits her teeth and walked across her room to her window. She lifted one edge of the blinds as if to check if anything was floating in the frosty air. Of course, there wasn’t. A man walking his dog and a woman dragging her can to the sidewalk. No demons. No druids. “Up until about an hour ago, I was going to chalk this up to myth. But I asked my father about it.”

“And?”

“And he’s hiding something.” She sounded out. “he’s a private man but I barely mentioned the subject and he got all cagey. Told me to never bring it up again. I didn’t stick around to hear the consequences, but can you blame me?”

There was another bout of silence before she heard a distant sigh. “I’ll get Emily to come if you get ahold of Beca.”

Now, Chloe hardly figured that fair. Emily fully submerged in this. All she needed was a promise of a free pastry and she would gladly waste an hour sitting in the back of a café. Beca would scream, and claw, and kick the entire way. At least that’s what she figured.

“Fine,” She relented. “Tomorrow after school. If you’re late. You’re buying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Chloe's father is certainly interesting. Let me know what you guys think! They'll figure it all out soon enough.


End file.
